Oblivion
by B. Wordsworth
Summary: And you never called me Mako afterwards. And all you ever did was sleep. Like now, just eat and sleep and go to work. You never danced afterwards, Draco. We never danced afterwards. - A series of angsty one-shots involving our beloved Draco and Makoto.
1. Chapter 1: Oblivion

**oblivion**

**Synopsis**: And you never called me Mako afterwards. And all you ever did was sleep. Like now, just eat and sleep and go to work. You never danced afterwards, Draco. _We_ never danced afterwards.

Another Mako / Draco fic. One-shot, a bit(actually very) short, a bit angsty. I adore angst (8

Hm...what else...uh, enjoy:D

-:-

The room was unsettlingly empty. Its plain white walls glared at her, taunting and harassing her with haunting memory. The gentle glow from the night-light emphasized the vacancy of the space, her own shadow dancing across the walls. Nothing. Darkness.

"Makoto?" A voice called behind her. She needn't to turn about. She knew it was him. It was always him.

"Yes."

"Come to bed, Makoto. It's one in the morning and you have work tomorrow." He reasoned sensibly. The sound of his feet shuffling closer echoed the room.

"It's snowing, you know." She suddenly said, causing the man's movements to come to an abrupt halt.

He knew what was coming.

"It's snowing just like it did that night. Heavy and fast. Everything so fast. I wonder if maybe it hadn't snowed, if maybe there hadn't been delays on the road, if maybe--"

"Come sleep, Makoto." He interjected with dire need, voice dangerously gruff and near commanding in sound.

"Come sleep. We have work tomorrow."

"And you never called me Mako afterwards. And all you ever did was sleep. Like now, just eat and sleep and go to work. You never danced afterwards, Draco. _We_ never danced afterwards." She continued listlessly, her frame beginning to rock back and forth rhythmically, like a rocking chair.

"Sweet little baby, don't say a word. Mommy's gonna buy you a--"

Draco visibly trembled, his open-palmed hand left wavering uncertainly in the air. He stared blankly at the extremity, stare distant and fearful. Silence.

Makoto quietly lay down on the stark wooden floor, curling into a ball for warmth. Draco followed, sprawling his larger person about hers. Without a word said, she turns and presses her body to his. One.

They soon fall asleep. The bulb of the nightlight is fading. A single photo slips from Makoto's hold. With the light's final beam of illumination, the image of a beaming infant flashes.

Darkness. And then…oblivion.

-:-

Mkay, I'm certain one of you will go on about how Draco is simply out of character. Well, too bad. My story, my way. Though I would like to say, Draco may be a hard, no shit badass...he's still inclined to feelings. Gosh.

I was thinkinging if I should upload other ficcleets under this story or as independent ones? Whatcha guys think?

Uh, review, please?


	2. Chapter 2: Fire

**Fire**

**Synopsis**: No amount of time or sleep or bottles upon bottles of vodka can make you forget…A very, very short HP SM

Eh. Wrote it once for a creative writing class. I don't really use hints as to who I am writing about but since I only write about one pair..you can guess.(DM & MK)

-:-

You wanted this.

You've repeated it to yourself, over and over, thousands of times. But not once did you manage to say it aloud. You could never because that would mean these stupid, ridiculous thoughts would become reality and you'd be to blame.

It's better this way. Floating endlessly in your mind, taunting and festering inside of you like a cancerous tumor. No amount of treatment can truly eliminate the hazardous growth, no amount of time or sleep or bottles upon bottles of vodka can make you forget…

You look at the room before you. The walls glare at you with its vast, empty abyss; faded sun spots where posters once hung smirking at you with memory. You remember exactly where the bed used to be, always unkempt, with the violet purple nightstand at her side of the bed. The drawers were always left open; she was forgetful like that.

But they were gone as well, just like…

Your brows lift with surprise as you take note of one particular stain on the bright, lime green carpet. You drop to your knees to take a closer look and recall the apple juice she had spilled from the carton that one night. She had bumped into the open night-stand drawer and dropped it all over the new carpet.

After father had cut you off, you had no money and no one wanted to hire the spawn of a Death Eater. You two had saved a months rent to buy that carpet and she had stained it, like that.

She cried and you just kissed her endlessly till she stopped.

You shake your head, ridding the memory from your thoughts.

You take a deep breath and revel how it still smells of her scent; that incomparable scent of the sun, moon and stars and sheer joy. And yes, joy had a scent.

You look behind you at the hallway. Boxes are stacked where things are supposed to be. And there's apathy where love is supposed to be. And you try and wonder why, why, why did you want this?

You take another breath and the smell of the sun, moon, HER has given way for the dank, sour smell of kerosene.

Freedom is near.

You extract a small, square packet from your pocket. A flick of your wrist and at once the vibrant, lime green carpet lights up a dangerous orange.

The flames dance across the floor of the house and soon up the walls, eagerly feasting on the glaring walls, hollowed carpet indentations and haunting memory. The fire finally turns to you for their victim, consuming you in this excruciating blaze.

And before you are completely gone, you can't help but to take that one, final breath.

And it smells just like the sun, moon and stars and sheer joy. And yes, sheer joy has a scent.

-:-

Idk. Loved it? Hated it?

Review, jackass.


	3. Chapter 3: Where Do Babies Come From?

**Where Do Babies Come From?**

**Synopsis**: When Aiden asks the age old question, his mother Makoto handles the somewhat uncomfortable situation with unwavering grace and maturity. She tells him to ask his father, Draco. :

-:-

"Mummy, where do babies come from?"

Twenty-eight-year-old Makoto Malfoy stirred in another cube of sugar into her daily afternoon tea, then turning another page in her glossy _Enchantment in Baking_ magazine before finally responding.

"You know where babies come from Aiden," She paused momentarily, taking a sip of her tea.

"They come from mummy's belly." She pointed at her torso for emphasis.

Five-year-old Aiden pouted in displeasure, stomping his tiny foot in annoyance.

"I know that, mummy. But _how_ do they get there?"

Aiden watched, startled, as his mummy coughed up her lemon and sugar tea, emerald green eyes bulging and rounding. She swallowed, quickly damping the spilt liquid with her napkin.

"W-Well honey, when a woman and a man get married--"

"But Auntie Ginny has a baby in her belly and she isn't married." The five-year-old interjected loudly, face crunched up with confusion.

"Well if Harry had kept it in his pants long enough till the wedding…" The twenty-eight-year-old muttered under her breath, head shaking. She released a shaky sigh, nervously pushing away one her chestnut curls from her face with a trembling hand.

"Okay, what I meant was….you see, when a man and woman are in love, true love; they do some stuff to have the baby. But it's only allowed to happen if they're _really_ in love."

"What 'stuff' do they do, mummy?" Aiden questioned, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

Makoto nearly dropped the cup and spoon from her hands at the inquiry, head snapping about to look at her only son. She sighed, dropping the dirty dishware into the kitchen sink, twisting on the faucet.

"Uhm, well, Aiden honey…" She trailed for a moment, scrubbing away at a particularly stubborn coffee ring on a cup. "…they make love."

The Malfoy offspring remained quiet, face puckering with an indescribable look. He knew what love was. It was when mummy would always make him chicken soup when his head got hot. Or when daddy would check all the closets in the house to see if the Boogie Man was hiding (though daddy did it because he was more scareder then he was, Aiden believed).

But how exactly did someone _make_ love?

"Mummy, how do you make love?"The boy persisted, glancing up towards his mother.

Makoto came to an abrupt halt, the sound of the on flow of water echoing the otherwise silent kitchen. She spent a good five or so minutes, though it seemed like hours, thinking of a reasonable and highly non-awkward way of explaining this.

And then, a thought came to mind. A deeply sinister, evil thought. Makoto Malfoy dropped to her knees, placing a comforting hand on her son's tiny shoulders.

"You know darling," She started, voice sugary-sweet and smile just the same.

"I think you should ask your father that question. He would be delighted to answer it."

Aiden Malfoy perked up at that, icy-blue eyes lighting up with an eager excitement only a child could have.

"Papa!" The five-year-old called out loudly as he scampered out of the kitchen and towards his father's study. Makoto shook her head as she straightened, turning back to the remaining dishes.

Draco Malfoy glanced up from the newspaper spread out before him at the sound of his office door opening. His brows lifted in surprise at the sight of a familiar head of honey-brown poking in through the doorway.

"Aiden, what's wrong son?" He questioned with concern, closing the periodical.

The five-year-old ran up around his father's oak-wood desk, coming to a firm stop before his father.

"How do you make love?" He demanded, tiny curled fists propped on his hips and stone-serious expression on his face.

"M-Make love!?" Draco sputtered, heat rising to his face and forming an adorable pink hue at the highline of his cheeks.

"Yes!" Aiden exclaimed, persistence waning slightly at the sight of his father's face. It was bright red, like those ornaments mummy placed on the Christmas tree.

"What m-makes you w-want to--" The unsettled father paused, swallowing heavily as he tried to regain his composure. Tried being the key word.

"What makes you want to know how to make love, son?"

"Well mummy said that's how you make babies." He explained, crossing his arms over his chest.

"She said you'd tell me how."

"Oh, she did, did she?" Draco muttered with a sneer, swiping his glasses off his face.

The thirty-something-year-old sighed heavily at that, raking a pale hand through his silver-blonde mane. Makoto was going to get it, oh yes she was.

"What makes you wonder this, Aiden?" Draco inquired as he pulled the curious youth onto his lap.

"Well when I went to school today, Mrs. Lupin's belly was huge! Like those blow-up balls you bring when we go to the beach? And it wasn't like that before, it was flat, like the graham crackers we eat during snack time." The five-year-old paused, taking a breath before continuing.

"And I asked Mrs. Lupin why and she said she had a baby in her belly. And I don't know why. So I asked mummy. And she said to ask you."

Aiden heaved a breath before turning to the bigger man, eyes rounded and expectant.

"So, how do you make love?"

Draco released what seemed to be the umpteenth sigh in the past ten minutes. His hand reached up, rubbing at the sides of his temples.

He had been one of the final eight to bring Voldemort down to his knees. He had climbed both the business and wizarding world in a little less than a decade. He surely could explain the ways of baby making to his only son.

"Well…" He trailed, thinking of any possible way out of this situation.

…Nothing.

"You see, boys have special seeds and girls have special eggs. And they mix it together, and that's how you make love."

Aiden remained silent, lips puckering. Then, he beamed, little arms raising up with joy.

"Hey! You and mummy should make love tonight!" He exclaimed excitedly, nearly jumping up from his father's lap.

"What!?" Draco was certain his entire blood-flow had been redirected to his face.

"Yeah—Oh! Could I watch how you do it?"

"Wha—no! Look at that Aiden son, it's already your bedtime. Let's tuck you in!" Draco declared loudly with a nod, scooping off his curious offspring and near-sprinting to his son's room.

"But papa, you never told me how the seeds get in mummy's belly! Does she swallow them? Or does she--"

Draco quickly tucked his son underneath the rocket ship-covered blankets, placing a quick peck on his forehead.

"Oh well, you should go to bed. I don't want you sleepy for school tomorrow. Goodnight son!"

Aiden watched as his father flicked the lights off in his room, door slamming loudly behind him. He remained still for a moment, staring out into the darkness of his room. Then, he sighed, rolling over.

Grown ups were so weird.

-:-

l-annethunder: Sorry for the delayed (really, uber year long delayed) update! But I hit this weird dry spell when it came to Mako/Draco. I haven't really been able to write a good, long one in a while. D: I just end up deleting them…and I hope this counts for a slightly happier one-shot since I don't wanna kill you people with all the angstyness. And yes readers can do it too (jackass) lol. It's good to see someone gets my brash and highly strange humor.

Thanks to other reviewers; DragonGirli, NelStar7  
Review! (And maybe I'll lend you Draco Malfoy for a sweet one-nighter…and no this isn't bribery or prostitution. O.o)

In case for anyone wondering (or anyone jarred by my strange, dark and often morose humor), I'm a compelte dorkus. You know that weird fuck your parents warned you about? Yeah…nice to meet you too. :P


	4. Chapter 4: Forgiving Of

**Forgiving Of**

Synopsis: Each and ever time you forgive him...because you can't help but to forgive when you're in love.

-:-

Even before I opened the envelope, I knew.

It would exalt his deepest apologies and implore my return, my friendship once more. It would relay that our ten years of friendship could not and would not be discarded like nothing just because of his stupid girlfriend's uncertainty of it.

He would promise a trip to the mall, like always, and that we could walk around for hours and make fun of people and of course he'd get me the smashed ice cream sundae with four scoops cause his best friends deserves four scoops instead of just three. And if that didn't work, he'd say we could just stay home and he'd hold me, ME, on the couch and I could cry all I wanted and it would just be me and him like I always dreamed,cried,wished dyingly with my entire being for the past ten years of my life.

He would give me the world in a heartbeat because that's what best friends do.

And perhaps that was the problem with it, that all I would _ever_ be was a damned friend; that dependable, one of the guys, never hurting, crying, FEELING _friend_ who could never possibly be anything but.

And all I'll ever be, Makoto Kino, is a girl...not _the_ girl.

It takes every fiber in my being to fight the sudden, all consuming urge...that desperate yank to just crumble and cry and be completely shattered here because it hurts with an unrelenting pain, it hurts to love someone and not to have them love you back, it hurts to love someone with every trembling iota of your very soul for ten years and not tell them.

It hurts having to wake up in the same apartment with him, his musky entrancing scent enshrouding you and you can't run, you can't you can't…

--I'm back in Professor Loranger's seventh period Creative Writing Class, with my wits and heart efficiently shredding each other to little bits because logic says to get out before it happens again, before you hurt again. And the battles streams on not to crumble _cry_ and completely shatter…and somewhere in the far recesses of my chest my heart has exploded and I'm so tired...wrought dry with feeble exhaustion, waiting waiting…for him to notice, for him to care…

"Forgive me?"

I don't bother turning around. I know it's him. His voice is soft and broken (so unlike him), an unfathomable amount of regret and despair soaking his tone. Its funny how it makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time.

I could run away. I could run and forget him and find that guy and maybe even live happily ever after (what's happily ever after without him?) and I won't be the stupid BESTFRIEND who's just _one of the boys_ and I'm the girl of his livingBREATHING dreams and I don't consider tossing that stupid retched bitch Pansy off the nearest 100 foot building because she has my entire LIFE in her arms..

I could run away. I could forget the last ten years of my life, I could forget him…

Forget him and every single one of his promises, hugs and words of forever (that's what best friends are). Forget every Sunday morning walk because you tried to eat your weight at the All You Can Eat diner. And forget all the Quidditch games in the rain where he gave you his jacket, soaking wet, because that extra layer meant one less chance at pneumonia.

_'What about you?'  
_'_I'll have you to nurse me back, Makoto and that's all I need.'_

Go on, forget him and forget the ten years of Earth-shattering friendship that all the deities in Heaven, Hell and Earth would sell their souls for, even for a second. As one hand sifts through my auburn-colored tresses, my fingers tug at a particular strand. It's so long…the roots run so deep…

I slowly turn about, careful to not draw any attention to my person. He stares back at me, those icy-blue orbs that were his eyes peering back at me. They were rounded and bright, agonizing pain etching its depths. He reminded her of a wounded animal at the moment, something lost and in need of care. He opens his mouth to say something, but I quickly silence him by extending my right hand, pinky-finger protruding forth.

He stares at it for a moment, and then sighs in relief, hooking the lingering extremity with his littlest finger.

I forgive him for this and I'll probably forgive him for more things to follow…because you can't help but to forgive when you're in love.

-:-

l-annethunder: Anything that involves a family member inquiring about anything sexually related is, in general, awkward as heck. Definate props for you for managing to explain it to your nephew, I certainly would've cracked under the pressure x.X Lol...it's good to see you dabble in my humor! And that you're glad I updated. It's good to know my fics are really wanted (I apologize for the huge cheeseballness of that prior statement) Thanks for the review!

Princesaangelbebe: Aww...how old is your child? I'm sue when that highly uncomfortable situation arises, you too will handle the situations with unwavering maturity...and if you want, hand it off to your husband or sister or something. xD Thanks for reviewing!

DragonGirli: Oh I'm glad you're still here (along with everyone else) It's been ages since I updated and its good to see you still were nice enough to check my updates. xP Thanks for reviewing!

**Any Makoto Kino fans**:  
- I'm having that hankering feeling to write an actual fic, continued plot through several chapters...and I'm open for **suggestions**!  
- While I have this urge...please do not anticipate a new story soon.

Review! (insert witty remark that cannot be processed in my mind at 2:36 in the morning.)


	5. Chapter 5: Till Next Time

**Till Next Time...**

Synopsis: You always say till next time...but maybe, just maybe..there won't be a next time.

-:-

It's when you wake up; it's when you realize it's the morning after, it's when he's really not coming back. And this unimaginable amount of unearthly,

agonizing

** pain **

that grips that throbbing muscle referred to as the heart.

You contemplate briefly what that F E E L I N G is.

It's not your heart breaking, you've experienced that PLENTY times before to know. It's something _worse_, something **so** unbearable that there's a deep consideration of simply ending all things with a simple swipe, a simple slice. It's a wonder...would he_ notice_? Would he _care_?

You realize now that you heart isn't broken, but that it has in fact EXPL0DED.

An interesting debate between your mind and that fucking black hole where you heart _was_ wracks your entire entity. Its better being **single**, you reason, its better he's **gone **because you're safe. And you _can't_ get hurt and you _don't_ risk it, all of it, everything, every single fiber of your soul to another only to have it **tossed** away like _yesterday_'s trash.

But you wake up that one morning, perfectly enshrouded by your blanket yet despite it; you're so COLD and so terribly alone. And you wish he was there, hands groggily sliding up your thigh and promising to show you why you left Gryffindor all those years ago. And you wish, with every tremblingACHING**hurting**_crying _fiber of your S0UL that he wasn't gone.

But wishes are just wishes and silly little hopes like that never come true. And you try to say till next time, but maybe...just maybe...there won't be a next time.

-:-

The **format is so weird** because in my Word, I decorated it nicely with different colors and big bold lettering but fanfiction(dot)net seems adamant about not allowing me such creative freedoms. v.v

It's 2:28 A.M. and I am tired as well as a bit delirious. I will gladly reply to your kind reviews in my next post, so do not think I'm being a total biznatch right now for personally responding as I usually do. Thanks to l-annethunder, princesangelbebe

DragonGirli: Ah, the horrid things the female heart endures. We're such hopeless romantics at times...it just might be our downfall. Oh and, I have a feeling you'll be feeling bad for Mako in a lot of my up-coming shorts. xD I love Mako to death, but it only seems right she face the brunt of my angstyness.

Just Review dammit! Seriously, or I'll hurt you in some fashion.


	6. Chapter 6: Once Upon A Time

**Once Upon A Time..**

Synopsis: Once upon a time doesn't always mean happily ever after.

-:-

Once upon a time, words were nothing and nothing could break you. You were happy and you used to throw on the nearest piece of clean garment possible and didn't even consider looking in the mirror. Hell, you wondered briefly why you had one, thinking it later as just decoration.

You would catch the bus, patiently waiting with your headphones impaled into your ear sockets for your stop to finally arrive. And when it did, you allowed everyone else to pass before you finally came off the bus and you'd stroll over to morning classes.

Hours would pass and classes have long since finished when you finally collapse into your apartment, several bags of groceries and such in your hands. You'd try that new recipe you learned today, do a few sit ups afterward and then take a nice long bath.

The television would be unsettlingly loud and you'd shout something very unladylike to a complaining neighbor through the walls. Eventually, fatigue consumes you and you finally succumb to slumber.

Then, you'd wake up and do it all over again.

But one day, when you woke up too late and you missed the bus and your headphones had stopped working, you ran into a boy. Quite literally, in fact, as you were in a half-sprint to the university because Head Chef would skewer you for the next day's lessons if you were late.

And you reach down, spouting profuse apologies and muttering how you had to get somewhere fast. The boy frowned a little, piqued, but offers you a ride.

Unaccustomed to such things (boys never liked you like that, what with your habit of beating them up half the time), your face flushes a lovely crimson pink and at that, he smirks. Instantly, it's a threat and you scowl and you push past him, ignoring your heart that had efficiently lodged itself into your throat.

He catches you by the arm and turns you around, murmuring how he meant no harm and the offer was still open. You look at him now and realize he has the prettiest crystal-blue eyes you had ever seen, your brain informing you of how jarringly similar he is to your old boyfriend (not really, you reason.)

Taking your dazed stupor as an affirmation to the question and he leads you to his car, one of those fancy sports cars that you fear by you simply breathing, you might disturb it somehow.

"Where to?" His voice is rough and rich, sending sultry whispers caressing over your body. You open your mouth, nothing comes out and you suddenly discover you had lost the ability to form conversation.

He lingers, fine brow furrowing lightly before shrugging, shifting the vehicle into gear. He curses heavily as passing by cars swerve in front of him and he promises to go smite them in their sleep.

You snicker lightly at his short temper before you too swear something foul as another car decides to shift three lanes last minute.

You're surprised to find yourself in front of the university and your head of curls jerks about, looking at the boy with the prettiest eyes ever (and I mean ever) with the most perplexed stare.

"Your sweatshirt." He informs, smirking and this faintly amused glint in his eyes. Warmth rises to your cheeks as you absently pluck at the lapels of your collegiate jacket.

You fumble over a curt thank you, scrambling out of his car and near falling flat on your face in the process. He calls for you but you stoutly ignore the cries, running like mad to the class you were already half an hour late to.

When you finally get home, no groceries in your hold, you are unhealthily tired. You forgot your book bag at home, you surmise, and thus forgot your wallet and bus pass too. Your stomach rumbles with hunger and you frown when you find your cupboards empty.

There is a knock at the door and with a faintly puckered brow, you go answer it. It is perhaps a second or two after you open it where you slam it shut, throwing your back against the wood slab with abject terror.

That boy from earlier was outside her doorstep, looking as cute!handsome!hot!amazing!(so he's the epitome of good in the world, okay?) as he did this morning. And you look like absolute trash, having ran ten or so blocks home and, as it settles into you, you've just slammed the door in his face.

Groaning, and you're certain something just died in you, you tentatively open the door to find the blue-eyed wonder still standing there. He seems unaffected by your strange behavior, in fact, standing there with an ever-cool smirk plastered across his face.

"You forgot this." He informed gruffly, shoving your worn back pack in your face.

Your eyes widen and you eagerly take the bag from his hold, muttering your deep gratitude for returning it. Then all at once you become suspicious, eyes narrowing slightly. You ask him how he got to your place and how he even knew how to get here.

"Your wallet was in the bag." He mumbled, almost irritated by your accusing words. You flush, embarrassed and apologize.

He sneers, eyes suddenly cold. You both linger in the awkward, unbearable silence and then, to your surprise, he invites you out for dinner.

"You hungry?"

Okay, it wasn't the most romantic way to put it, but you're just elated that this guy had asked you out. He takes you to a cute little café, with the fancy cups of coffee and little pastries that cute little cafés are comprised of.

He's new in Juuban and apparently, he left his family on not so good terms.

"My father is very…he's very controlling about the aspects of my life." He admits with uncomfortably difficulty, his usually confident stare falling to the side a little.

"So I left and I'm certain he's erased the very memory of my existence by now."

The little dinner date goes on longer than it should and you find out his favorite color is green (only green, not jade green or forest green, just green) and he just adores hamburgers with cheese and most of all, he wants to become a famous writer.

More surprisingly, you tell him how your parents died when you were four and that you love to go ice skating with your pink and green (ironically, your favorite color too) skates. You tell him of how you'll become the best chef in the world and begin a small chain of flower shops.

You never open up to people, especially a boy. Especially a boy you met a scant few hours ago.

Somehow, you two end up fumbling through your apartment and he's tugging at your worn sweater as you almost rip the silk shirt off his back. And it's positively thrilling, skin against skin and your breath is his, and he's your everything for that night.

And that night becomes many nights cause he never left that morning after and he writes all these little stories of love and promises and forever and it's almost always about you.

It's when you come home that day and you have special groceries this time and you're making him the new soufflé you learned cause he loves soufflé. You hurry to your room and frantically shift through your closet.

Clothes are strewn about the floor because it was either too tight, too long, too not sheer incandescent perfection because he deserves nothing but that.

You finally decide on his favorite outfit, a little black dress, and the rose earrings he gave you last Christmas. You sit by the table, the soufflé warm and hot with delicious cheesy goodness and you wait.

Wait, wait, wait and you wake up the next morning, the soufflé cold and he's not there. You're concerned but shrug it off, hurrying to school thinking it best as to pass time. Time goes excruciatingly slow and you are certain you are going to die in the next second.

You come home and he's not there. It's one, two, three calls when he finally answers and he curtly tells you how it's over and there was nothing really there anyway.

You slam the phone shut and you, for the first time since mama and papa died, you cry.

You manage to drag yourself to your room and you collapse in your bed, _his_ bed. It smells like him, rolling about the cotton sheets it's like he's holding you again. And you rip the sheets off (it's too much) and you rumple up all his clothes that he left and you find the story about a girl who meets a boy and he gives her forever.

You cry and you promise yourself neverEVER again because no one should ever hurt like this and you're stupid, so stupid, happy endings never come for someone like you.

It was a week or so later, when you got a package in the mail. It was a book about a boy who met a girl and they fell in love, and they made forever and happy ever after. But the boy's father threatened to kill the girl and the boy went back and when the father went back on his words, to kill the girl, the boy fought him.

The boy died.

Needless to say, you broke down all over again when you finished the book. You were certain your heart had just ripped itself to shreds when you saw Draco's favorite gold chain in between the crevices, a ring hanging plainly from the chain.

The ring was engraved with his apology, that he said those hurtful things, that he broke his promise about forever…that he ever left her.

Once upon a time, words were just words and something like happy was possible. You didn't spend the two hours in your closet (because he's worth it) and you didn't shove past the irritating bastards on the bus because why do they deserve a break. Love was just something in fairytales and the color green didn't break your heart into millions of shattered pieces.

Once upon a time, Makoto Kino was a free, loving woman who used to love books and the color green. But now she's incarcerated for the first degree murder of Lucius Malfoy and some say she'll burst into tears at the sight of a book or the color green.

-:-

A different style of writing…I don't know if I like it.

NelStar7: I don't know where all this strange angst is coming from…I suppose it's the teenage emo in me (and my unhealthy amount of sad songs on my ipod.) You should indefinitely begin writing again, even morose little one shots such as my own. I hope you are doing ecstatic? Best of luck!

Princesanglebebe: Oh my, one of those soldier hubby's. I don't know how you manage, it must be so horribly difficult x.X Especially with such a young child…bleh, least of all things you need is pity, I'm sure. I'm glad that I managed to make you cry (as horrible as that sounds lol) It's good to know all the aching feeling got across. Best wishes!

DragonGirli: Oh, I've got lots more sad ones coming. xP Thanks for reviewing!

Review!


	7. Chapter 7: Normal

**Normal**

Synopsis: A tiny insight of Draco's musings as he falls into one if those heated encounters with Makoto Kino. Things aren't as they seem to be, as always.

-:-

_She started it._

"You arrogant, no-account, good for nothing bastard!" Makoto snarled as she made fast, sweeping strides down the passageways of Hogwart's Dungeoun quarters. She was practically trembling with her rage and was certain something was going to be severely damaged in the next five seconds.

"You know, I am quite aware of who my father is Kino." Draco replied soon enough, his own movements somewhat hastened to maintain the Gryffindor's hurried pace.

The witch released a shrill, irritated scream of outrage and she came to an abrupt halt. She spun about with the cloaks billowing about her ankles in the motion. Her face is hard, cold and with the faintest hint of fear as she directed the tip of her wand squarely in the boy's direction.

"Give me my earrings."

_She did. Really. She kept babbling on and on about how Pansy, or any girl for that matter, could even swallow the idea of even being near me, let alone kissing me._

The silver-haired warlock only smirked, his own appendage stretching out and hanging precariously over the female's own. The tightly curled fist slowly eased open, revealing two delicate earrings lying plainly in his palm. Her movements have stilled and it's almost adorable when her wide, astounded emerald depths fixate themselves onto the bijoutry.

But the innocuous curiosity dissipated when the tall, ungainly female lunged forward, her wand falling carelessly from her grasp. She was at one moment about to snatch her mother's favorite earrings and then all at once, pinned against the cold brick walls the next.

_So, I kissed her._

"W-What are you doing?" Her demand came out more of breathless whisper than the stern, confident order she had intended.

Slytherin's powerhouse was silent to her inquiries, instead preoccupying himself quite nicely as his lips left little explosions down the side of her throat. It was rough, a little painful and fiery hot…but it suited the witch just fine (though, she'd never admit.)

"I-uhm, w-what--" Her words were stalled in her throat as his mouth began its dangerous ascension up the front of her neck; kissing, licking and biting the tender flesh and assuring some sort of mark would show tomorrow.

_I probably should've pulled away sooner than I had…I probably never should've done it._

Her palms pressed against the front of his shirt, sliding up against his chest and settling comfortably about his thick neck. One hand scoured through his silvery mane, fingers tangling themselves amongst the ultra-fine strands.

She gasped a little when she felt his knee slide its way over and nestle snugly between her legs, hoisting her off the ground slightly and bringing them to a more intimate contact then prior.

_But she was too sweet_ _to only be had just for that little bit_.

"Malfoy."

The plea was delicious to his ears and he reveled as her long, long legs found themselves wrapped tightly about his narrow middle. The warlock was eager to appease her aching desires, one arm reaching down and catching her by the backside.

His lips never left her neck as he carried her the entire way to the nearest room, artfully working the door open to a thankfully empty battle arena. He carried her to the raised battle stage placed at the center of the room, plopping her down on its edge.

Along the way the devious little minx had managed to undo his shirt and tie, shoving the offending cloth off his broad shoulders.

_For a mudblood, I mean._

Her fingers trailed and caressed their way about his bare chest, scouring the hardened muscles and old sealed up wounds his Father gave him just last Christmas. And her mouth replaced her hands and Draco actually groaned a little as she placed hot, moist opened-mouth kisses down his flat stomach.

"So," He managed as he felt her hands slide about the hemline of his pants, slowly and methodically working his belt open. He grinned a little, realizing the repercussions of his next words.

"I win."

All at once her easing motions turned rough and demanding, yanking the leather strip and shoving the trousers down to settle around his ankles. She perked up, catching him by the scruff of his neck and brought his face down to hers.

_Now don't think this is love or something. It's nothing but lust and I know the difference between lust and love._

"You wish, Malfoy."

She hissed darkly just before she slanted her mouth over his, tongue stabbing forward and scraping every scouring inch of that hot, moist cavity of his mouth. He kisses her back just as fervently; hands roaming, feeling, searching everything of her that had been haunting his dreams for the past three years.

_And what we have…it's not love._

Soon enough she's sprawled beneath him and he feels the delicious everything that he'd been yearning for since last time. His mouth is on hers and he's thrusting and shoving and _plunging_ and with each thrust, shove, plunge she gives one back because she's never one to just take it.

_It can't be…_

Then, she jerks forward and Draco is forced on his back, with her proudly astride him. She grins triumphantly at him, beneath her, and she continues the motion. He chuckles slightly at her action, hands settling at the curve of her hips to aid her all the way.

"I win." She declares between throaty moans and Draco only smiles at the remark, reaching up slightly to bring her face down to his.

"Yeah right." And he sounds so soft, so human just before he kisses her with all the gentle intention of making her his.

He thrusts his hips upward and she released a slight outcry of pleasure, the sparks flaring up her insides and straight to her brain.

_She'll go back to Gryffindor Tower and I will slink into Slytherin Dungeon._

He does it again, again, in and out, claiming every inch of her to him.

_And we'll pretend this never happened._

And she's groaning, moaning, clinging to him in perfect desperation because he's the only one that can fix that ache.

_But before that happens, before we scramble for our clothes and groggily move our separate ways.._

Because he's the only one that can fix her.

_We linger and she lays with me._

Slytherin's Prince shoves his hips upward once more time, his own back arching as he felt little explosions erupt inside of him.

_She says that if anyone ever found out we'd surely die instantly._

Makoto collapses atop his sweat-misted frame, heaving and gasping for the breath that had long since escaped her. Her head nestles snugly along the curve of his neck and his arms cradle her waist and for a moment...they're normal.

_I never tell her that I'd gladly die for this, for her._

His face turns slightly and hers shifts upward and they both smile, with silly things like Houses and obligation and Voldemort gone from existence. He places a tender kiss atop her sweaty brow and she snuggles her frame closer to his.

_And after, like clockwork, she always says this is going to be the last time, that this is never again._

She gets up soon after and pulls her shirt back on and he's fastening the buttons of his slacks. They're silent as the other dresses, their backs turned so neither of them notice the aching vulnerability etching their faces.

She doesn't notice the lingering stare that trails her as she leaves, icy blue depths wrought with screaming desperation for her. And when he finally leaves the room, turning his way back to the Dungeons, he never sees the tiny girl standing behind the wall just beyond him or the proud green and silver tie clutched in her grasp.

_And sometimes…I'm scared it will be_.

But for now, as they lay sprawled across the battle dais with their legs entwined and his fingers tracing little circles down her back and her hair tickling the top of his chin, they could just be normal. (...and maybe even happy, just once)

"So," He murmurs and the sharp snarl to his words is returning.

"I win?"

-:-

Princesaangelbebe: Ooh! Tatter-tots! I love those! (Well, I just love food...seriously.) And cream cheese...it's so sinful x.X I was initially going to just let Lucius live on and Makoto wallow in self pity, but being the over-zealous feminist I am, Makoto had to go and kick the prick's ass. Mhm. :D Thanks for reviewing!

NelStar7: How the hell have you been? Lol, I fondly recall our dorking out days where we'd constantly beta each other's work. You were always so helpful! I hope work is well and all that growned up stuff you gots to do x.X Best wishes!

DragonGirli: I'm glad that my different style choice wasn't a complete failure. I hope not to dissapoint! Thanks for reviewing!

Review! Please..seriously? Come on.


	8. Chapter 8: Pretty

**Pretty**

Synopsis: I'm nothing in his eyes. He's absolutely everything in mine.

-:-

He was tall and cute and had the prettiest blue eyes I had ever seen. He was every single ounce of perfection in my eyes.

I giggle too much when I'm around him and even I'll admit I hold on much longer than I should when he hugs me.

I know I can never be the girl of living _BREATHING_ dreams. I can never be dainty and rich and no matter how hard I try, I'll never be a pureblood. I can never EVER be that girl that makes him smile and laugh and forces him to stay up till 3 in the morning waiting for my call.

He holds me though (to keep me warm, he says) and he almost always tickles me the only way he can where I end up a crumpled heap on the floor.

Funny cause, somehow, even if he doesn't tickle me I still end up a crumpled heap on the floor.

"You're the only girl I know who I can burp and laugh and be a complete boy around without feeling awkward." He laughs.

And than he holds my face in his hands and dearGODgodgod, I think I forgot how to breathe.

"Don't ever change that."

But it's too late. It **has** changed.

I'm nothing in his eyes. He's absolutely everything in mine.

I remember he called me pretty once and my heart stopped beating on the spot. That's right, I straight up died there and then. But of course, life goes on and Pansy came in and he turns to her.

He calls her pretty too. Only this time, he means it with his heart (she is his girlfriend after all) and I wish for fucking once, he could say that to me. But I could never have that, I realize.

...his heart, I mean.

-:-

This was short, even for me and it wasn't really cohesive to say the least. But I'm writing in the moment, and as we know, writing in the moment doesn't exactly produce the best of works. lol.

Boys are so silly :x They shouldn't flirt the way they do and absolutely throw the girl into a damned conundrum of emotions. ESPECIALLY IF YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND! Christ, do you _enjoy_ making us absolutely miserable as we wreck our mind thinking of what exactly you really mean?!

DAMN THEM! Damn them all to hell. Okay, I'm done.


End file.
